Supremacy
by Ross The Kittycat
Summary: "You better begin," Harry muttered as he repeated the words written on the slip of paper. We look at each other with grim faces. We know what that means for the three of us. Voldemort has finally declared war. DHr. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Characters, and any other familiar names are owned by JK Rowling.

**Summary:** "You better begin," Harry muttered as he repeated the words written on the slip of paper. We look at each other with grim faces. We know what that means for the three of us. Voldemort has finally declared war. WIP.

**Notes:**

Title inspired by Muse's song Supremacy.

Deathly Hallows never happened.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter One**

My heels clacked on the floor as I walk towards the lifts in the Atrium, a disposable cup on my left hand, and a bundle of documents on my right. Mondays were never my favorite day of the week.

Immediately after graduating, Harry and Ron started their Auror training. It was brutal, they told me, as Moody was being extra careful in pushing the boys a little too hard to prepare them for the upcoming battle with Voldemort. There were times when Ron and Harry would come home to our flat at odd times of the night covered in grime and dirt that somehow manages to get their way even in their underwear.

How do I know this?

Even at eighteen years of age, the boys still don't know how to clean their rooms.

Honestly.

I keep telling them that Moody was only pushing them because they _need_ to be pushed. However, I didn't tell them that Moody was giving them a special training compared to normal Auror trainees – Merlin knows Ron has a big enough head to fill Grimauld Place.

I sipped the hot chocolate – sweet and hot enough to wake me up at this god-awful day at this god-awful hour. Why is it that working hours are earlier on Mondays?

I say my Good Mornings to the people I pass by, hoping I don't look rattled so early on in the morning. I pass by Madam Edgecombe and made small talk as we walk towards the lift together.

During the course of Harry and Ron's training, I decided to apply for an internship at the Department of Mysteries. While I knew I wanted to work at the Ministry of Magic, I was unsure of the department I wanted to work in. Molly and Arthur expected me to apply for an internship at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and while I was _this_ close to sending my letter of intent, the mystery that lies behind the doors of the Department of Mysteries piqued my curiosity. Ron, Harry and Ginny questioned me enough times in hopes that I would send the owl at my previous choice. I told them that I wanted to pursue being an Unspeakable even if the events of our fifth year were still rather fresh on my mind. Despite their efforts, I sent in my owl days after chewing the end of my quill off.

While I was an intern, I decided to send an owl to St. Mungos to apply as a part-time Trainee Healer as well. Although Ron and Harry didn't want me to exhaust myself too much, my reasoning was enough for them to sigh and give me a hug of encouragement. I know I'm over exerting myself but who isn't? With the war brewing, Merlin knows someone needs to at least be a trained Healer to aid in our quest. At least, when someone asks me what my job is, I just tell them the latter.

Juggling work is a whole different matter.

Luckily for me, my work in the Department of Mysteries compliments my being a Trainee Healer.

Four years after, Ron and Harry are now fully-fledged Aurors, slowly working their way up the ranks. Harry, not surprising enough, became the Deputy Head of Aurors at twenty-two.

Ginny was offered a spot on the Holyhead Harpies and became their Chaser and occasional Seeker for a few years after Hogwarts. She applied as an intern for the Department of Magical Games and Sports soon after.

Four years after leaving Hogwarts, the battle against Voldemort hasn't settled, the three of us agreeing to postpone our so-called quest to collect the Horcruxes to try and prepare ourselves physically and mentally for the final battle – our current profession being of great advantage.

We haven't touched any of the Horcruxes since Dumbledore's death. Lucky for us, Voldemort hasn't felt the need to create more (or at least, that's what Harry tells us, putting all his trust in his scar to tell him if anything weird happens). However, that doesn't mean the attacks stopped.

I sighed as the lift stopped at level nine of the Ministry of Magic. I walk the long hallway before going in the door that leads to the Department of Mysteries. I waved my wand and the left wall opened to reveal a closet of sorts filled with black cloaks big enough to hide an Unspeakable's identity. It was likewise laced with different charms to mask a wearer's voice and physique. Only the Head of the Department is immune to these charms to avoid break-ins. The entire department was heavily warded as well, so that any curious employees who wanted to go up the department will be confunded, obliviated, and be slowly escorted down, all without having the curious employee step foot in the department. The cloaks help in entering as well, along with our magical signature. I secretly smile at having the opportunity to know the inner workings of the most secretive department in the whole of Wizarding Britain.

It pains me to remember why we had to double the security at the department. I told my superiors that we wouldn't want a repeat of what happened in 1995, when Death Eaters broke through the Department, along with several DA and Order members. The memory of Sirius' death still lingers even after all these years.

There have been several attacks throughout the four years that we've been working, all of them scattered, all of them creating a large enough dent in the minds of the wizarding population. Even the neighboring countries have felt it. Even as Auror Trainees, Ron and Harry have been working overtime to capture and question the Death Eaters that were unable to escape. My being a healer became useful as well, helping not only Ron and Harry every time they go home scarred and bruised, but also the innocents injured.

Four years after applying at two of my preferred professions, I am an Unspeakable and a call-in Healer, only donning the Healer robes whenever the hospital pin on my charm bracelet glows a bright red, a sign of emergency.

I walk through the empty halls of the department, going in the circular room, and choosing the right time to go through the right door and muttering the right incantation to go to my office. It was an impressive trick, and one that got me lost during my first few weeks as an intern in the department. But I got the pattern nonetheless and got through the right rooms in order to do the right assignments.

I placed my cup of hot chocolate on my office table and sat heavily on my chair. Merlin, it was only morning and it already feels like I've gone through the whole week.

I muttered a spell and all the documents I had with me turned into three thick envelopes with completely different documents inside of them, another one of the department's tricks, and mine as well, that fooled any of the other employees in the Ministry into thinking otherwise. If any one else got through these documents, they would only read lines and lines of symbols and numbers, a nice play on Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and even if deciphered it would only show lists and statistics of the Wizarding World.

I shuffled through them, inspecting each paper closely to see if all papers are present. Slowly I laid them out on my desk and filtered through them. One of the papers had been dog-eared, but upon checking, was only marked by an Auror in his report.

"Must be Savage," I muttered, and smoothed the document.

The work of an Unspeakable differ for each person, with no Unspeakable working on a similar assignment at the same time. I was charged with inspecting Auror reports that get filtered, making each reports different, only allowing cases unique enough to come through. After further filtering the reports, I check the curses used by the captured wizard (after having his/her wand confiscated, and after casting _Priori Incantatem_), the list of curses used by every dark wizard filtered as well, so that no listed curse is alike. I then dissect each curse to its most miniscule effect, get its important elements, then creating a curse that works ten times better.

If Bill is a curse breaker, then I'm a curse designer.

Only Ron, Harry and Ginny know this, of course.

See how this compliments my being a Healer? In my dissecting the darkest of curses used by dark wizards, I apply this knowledge in my work as a Healer. While I create some of the worst curses known, I likewise create some of the best spells to counter them – example of which are healing spells.

My work is not perfect however, as there have been several backlashes in the past couple of years that I've been a curse designer. Even with a calculation of 0.0001% mistake, a curse can go towards that miniscule percentage and backfire on you. I've had my share of burns and several other scars and while I have been a call-in healer for only a year, some of my injuries still need healing from the professionals. Fortunately for me, the Healers don't question the origins of the injury.

Why the Ministry need curse designers, I would never know.

Something catches the corner of my eye as I rifle through the documents spread out on my desk. It was the same dog-eared paper. At my touch, the paper started oozing purple colored pus that burned my fingers.

"Shite," I muttered and instantly waved my wand to heal it. Curiously enough, that didn't do the trick. I muttered every common healing spell and none of them work. My eyebrows furrow and my heart starts beating rapidly in panic. What on earth? Deciding on using one of my own spells, I touch the burn that's slowly eating my skin ("Acid!" I hiss as the pain gets worse) with my wand, say an incantation and feel the skin slowly heal itself. When I looked back at the cursed paper, I was surprised enough to find that the surrounding area wasn't damaged.

"Maybe it only worked on skin," I muttered to myself and placed that information at the back of my head for storage. Whoever created this must be curse designer as well, but not an Unspeakable. One of the Death Eaters then. I frowned. This could be bad. If they have a talented enough curse designer then the Order is in deep trouble.

I muttered several spells that would clear my desk save for the dog-eared paper, set it on the floor and encase it in an environment-proof glass to avoid it contaminating the air should it have any airborne side-effects. The paper soon turned to black and words written in green ink appeared.

_You will soon know your place._

The bottom left corner of the paper started denting, slowly shaping itself into the Dark Mark. My eyes widen.

Shite indeed.

* * *

I had lunch that afternoon with Harry in some semi-fast, semi-fancy restaurant just outside the Ministry, Ron having been assigned some work out in an abandoned home, so he couldn't be with us.

"He's been grumbling all day," Harry said across from me, forking his salad and sipping his tea. Even at twenty-two Harry still looks like he's been out of Hogwarts a couple of months ago save for a couple of slightly visible scars. "Says that Su keeps hanging off his neck for not telling her of his recent _escapades_._"_

I sigh. "They'll get through it, Harry. Su and Ron have been having fights about who's clingier since they met in the halls of St. Mungos years ago." We both cringed, not wanting to recall that particular memory at the moment.

"I know," Harry leaned to the table and looked at me straight in the eyes. "So how's being a _Healer_ treating you?" Harry can't seriously stress Healer enough to know that that's not what he was talking about. I mentally rolled my eyes.

"I chanced upon an interesting document awhile ago," I started and explained to him how I got the black letter. Harry's frown couldn't have deepened enough. I'm glad we started this habit of casting the _Muffliato_ every time we eat out. "What do you make of it?"

"I think we're old enough to know that we shouldn't be touching anything that looks funny, even if it's work related. This thing with Voldemort may not be as big as we think it would be at this point, and I hate to admit it but majority of the people are starting to become complacent because of it. The Order, on the other hand, are starting to get jittery by the second. We know this will explode into something bigger. Voldemort was never this patient." Sadly, I agreed with Harry. He ran his hands through his hair and sipped the last of his tea, internally cussing at Voldemort for making Harry carry this much weight on his shoulder. "Just be careful, Hermione. I won't tell you to double check everything because you're smart enough to know that."

"I know. I'm just worried about what this means for the three of us," I meant our impending journey, the 'reopening' of our quest to find the rest of the Horcruxes. I would think that we're ready now. I _know _we're ready.

But while we're spending our life preparing for the battle, Voldemort would no doubt be preparing for the battle of his life as well.

While Harry and I were walking back towards the Ministry, a man dressed in grimy robes bumped into me, causing me to stumble and have my take-out and the rest of my things fall to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Miss." His voice was hoarse. He was kind enough to help me pick up my paper bag.

"It's alright," I sighed. Really, what is it with Mondays?

"Are you alright, Hermione?" I don't have to look up to Harry to see him frowning at the man (I can practically _hear _him frown) but turned back to helping me pick up my things.

"Yes, I a—where did he go?" I frowned as I look up. The man who was helping me awhile ago was gone, but my paper bag and my things were in my hands.

"Must be some wizard who chanced upon marijuana," I shrugged at Harry and accept his hands as he pulled me up.

And true enough as I sit back at my desk moments later, there inside my paper bag was a plastic bag full of muggle weed.

"Seriously, you would think that—"

But I never finished my sentence for as soon as I touched the mini-plastic bag full of marijuana, I was suddenly transported a dark, windowless room.

Shite indeed.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Ahh! I finally had the guts to go back to my story and re-edit everything. I am so excited! Yet anxious at the same time 'cause my last year in college is only three weeks away.

We can do this guys!

As always, hoped you enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclamer: **As always, JK Rowling owns everything.

**Notes:** Working on chapter 5. Yey! I don't know how I'll go on about updating but it definitely won't be one chapter per week since I just recently started drafting chapter 5 and 6. Don't worry, I have the whole story outlined. Expect slow updates in the near future though since school is coming up. Sigh.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

I let my eyes adjust to the dark. While the circular room in the Department of Mysteries was dimly lit, the type of darkness in this room was artificially made - it wasn't dark because there was a lack of light; it was dark because it was made to be. I narrowed my eyes and brandished my wand out of my pocket, getting myself ready.

I frowned. The anti-portkey wards in the Department should've been working properly. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. Someone was either _Imperio_-ed to alter the wards or a Death Eater was working in the Department of Mysteries. Or someone in Voldemort's ranks is a curse designer – someone talented enough to have created a modified portkey that could act against the effects of an anti-portkey ward.

"Hello?" I say into the dark, not daring to move an inch in case the floor has been loaded with traps, my first year coming into mind and the ghost of the Devil's Snare slithering on my feet. I muttered a _lumos_ but it didn't work. I frowned. I tried other spells but the effect was the same - nothing. What has Voldemort - or this curse designer - been teaching his Death Eaters in their months of silence?

"I know I'm not in a welcomed place," I continue. My heart rate speeds as I become claustrophobic by the second. Seeing as no one would probably respond in the next few seconds, I inspected myself for anything that I accidentally brought with me. No good. I only have my wand and my charm bracelet with me, not that it would do me any good seeing as the only charm it has as of the moment is St. Mungo's Healer charm.

"Okay look—"

A sliver of light suddenly peeked through a door I didn't notice far left. I hear a cackle that brought goose pimples across my skin. Bellatrix.

"Little mudblood bitch is that idiotic to touch anything not double checked," She laughed manically. My insides suddenly feel cold just from hearing her laugh. I must find a way to get out of this mess as soon as possible. "Cat got your tongue, mudblood?"

"Where am I?" Good. My voice is steady. I must look steady even though I'm shivering inside. There's this sudden gust of cold wind coming from that door. Or maybe the cold came from Bellatrix herself?

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She cackled as she left, leaving the door open. "Nott! Get your arse in here!"

While I am not familiar with the workings of all of the Death Eaters, only knowing a few from Auror reports, and some chance encounters, I know Theodore Nott Jr. enough to have made a profile of him back in Hogwarts. While Draco Malfoy was, for all intents and purposes, the antagonist in Harry's life (and Ron's and mine as well), Theodore Nott was always hiding in the shadows - he was the encyclopedic definition of an introvert.

But why would someone who displayed intense antisocial behavior back in Hogwarts join a band of Death Eaters?

I started racking my head for any curses I could throw and plan my escape. But first, I breathed in and felt the air for any wards placed in the room. Hopefully, Nott isn't the curse designer or whoever was constantly creating new curses for the Death Eaters. Anti-portkey wards, anti-apparition wards, and a-

My eyes widened, my heart rate doubled in speed as I slowly panic. What the bloody hell? That's why the spells don't work. This place has an anti-magic ward!

I slowly pocket my wand. So that's why they were complacent enough to let me keep my wand. If this place has an anti-magic ward then that means that this room is the torture-slash-interrogation room. But why would they place an anti-magic ward in the torture room? Didn't Death Eaters prefer to torture using dark curses? Unless—

"Little Miss Granger," Nott mockingly bowed in front of me. "Nice to meet you."

"What do you want?" I tense, looking back and forth between Nott that was currently in front of me and Bellatrix who was acting as the sentry. I started formulating plans to escape. I bit my lip. I hope Harry doesn't notice, not until after several hours, at least.

"Information, of course." Nott shrugged nonchalantly. He's smug enough to know that I won't be able leave this place unmarred, smug enough to think that I _won't_ be able to leave this place at all.

I rolled my eyes, as if I would give information that easy. I'm a trained—

"Although, I guess being an Unspeakable has trained you to keep your mouth shut."

My heart beats rapidly in my chest. I'm rattled but I show no signs of it. Years of being an Unspeakable have trained me to become stoic in times of distress, _especially_ during times of interrogation. We were trained to lie. We were trained to deny questions such as these. We were never to admit that we are, in fact, an Unspeakable.

I hear him mutter a spell and the darkness in the room considerably lessened, giving way to natural darkness.

"You created the wards?" I spoke as if I was talking about the weather. Distract, but at the same time let him slowly feed you information. Keep yourself on your feet, Hermione. You can do this.

"No," I feel my face slowly fall. "But a friend of mine taught me how to counter that one specific ward that I'm sure you've felt, Miss Granger." He haughtily smirked.

I tensely nod at him despite the darkness. He then lifted his lighted wand and smiled.

"Now let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

While Bellatrix was distinguishingly the crazy one, with a head full of loose screws, no one would have thought that Nott was the psychopath in the group of Death Eaters.

I gasp for air as I lay on the floor, clutching at nothing and everything at the same time. I need air. I need water. I need something to hold on to. What on earth is Nott doing to me?

"This is getting repetitively boring, Miss Granger, and I do not want to miss afternoon tea with my _lovely_ wife so please answer the question." He brings the silver dagger down my arm again and I wince, the pain doubling after being subjected to it several times. "The poison in this dagger is light, compared to the others I have with me. Now please, if you don't want to feel it again, answer the question."

While Bellatrix is the crazy bint everyone has been avoiding all this time, Nott has been in the background, silently torturing you with his sharp words, sharp daggers, and meticulously brewed potions while acting like the gentleman that he thinks he is. Bellatrix is a fire ant compared to this monster.

He drags his dagger through my arm and I will myself not to scream. I do whimper though and that was enough to encourage him.

"Please, Miss Granger. I do not want to do this to you."

"Bullshit," I hiss. He smiled and whacked me hard on the head with a conjured stick. Merlin, he's the typical psychopath, feeding off the pain of others. Muggle criminal psychologists would have a fieldtrip studying his brain. I fall further to the floor. I spat out the blood in my mouth. I close my eyes and breathed through my mouth, my sinuses clogging. Can I break through the wards? I'm not sure I can. Not in this state anyway.

Nott slowly skewered me through the ribs using a hot iron rod. This time I screamed. Even though it's dark I see patches of light in front of me. I swear to Merlin, I can hear Nott sighing in content every time he does something terrible to me.

How many hours have passed since I've been here? Or has it already been days?

I'm sure Harry has noticed my absence. I'm sure most of the Order members are panicking right now, going through the standard procedures every time a member goes missing. But I'm sure Harry has settled everything so that the Order doesn't move unless he says so. I made him promise that in case something like this happens, he would only give the green light if and only if I haven't made myself present to him or any of the members within three days.

I felt tears prickle my eyes as Nott whacked me in the legs with the hot iron rod. Some of the skin came along every time he lifts it. Slowly, I feel myself losing consciousness.

* * *

"You're kind of an idiot aren't you, Granger?" The voice sounded familiar.

I found myself opening my eyes to see someone crouching in front of me.

When I blearily looked up from where I was currently lying down on my back, I saw platinum blond hair. I tensed further. I opened my mouth to speak but I felt my throat constrict. My eyes widened a fraction as no sound came out. My throat felt like it was inflamed enough to even block off air. I can taste the copper at the back of my throat. I tried not to panic as this would only worsen the pain.

"And no, I'm not here to torture you like Nott," He rolled his eyes. "I'm here to fix you." I saw him sit on the floor and roll his sleeves up, his Dark Mark on his left arm eerily shining despite the lack of light in the room.

I tried to scoot away from him but my body felt like it was on fire. Every movement I made felt like a thousand _crucio_. I silently screamed.

"Stop moving. You'll only hurt yourself more."

Despite the pain I'm currently feeling, I had enough energy to glare at Malfoy with enough feeling of hate.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, causing Malfoy to frown.

"What are you doing?" His voice sounded panicked for a second. Good. Let him think that I'm going to do something to him.

I slowly concentrated all my magic to my throat, knowing that this piece of wandless magic would take a toll on my body. Slowly, I feel the tissues in my lungs and esophagus fix itself, making breathing and speaking possible even through minimal pain. Thank Merlin I decided to become a Healer as well.

"Get away from me," I hoarsely told him off. My breathing becomes deep. Now that I did that piece of magic, my escape has been postponed for a day or two considering my injuries and the energy I spent on healing myself wandlessly. I dare not heal my injuries for fear of weakening my body further.

My eyes snapped open wide. I just did wandless magic. When did the anti-magic ward came down?

"Since I came in this room," Malfoy said, his hands now resting on his knees. How? "I can hear you think, you know. Your brain patterns are so… _Granger_. You know what I mean? Your facial features give it away too."

If I could flip him off, I would.

"Why are you here?" I spat.

"I told you, I came to fix you," He then slowly slid himself next to me, his wand hovering over my body doing a diagnosis of all my injuries, external or otherwise. Moving still looked impossible as even the little movement of my finger sent jolts of electricity in my body. Fortunately, talking seemed like an easy enough job. Whoever put this curse on me wanted me to talk.

"So you guys can torture me again?" I glared at him.

He only hummed in response.

I sighed as I felt healing spells being performed on some of the injuries that would pose a threat to their interrogation. I'm sure they want to keep me alive long enough for them to extract the information.

"You're an idiot, do you know that?"

"Why are even talking to the prisoner, Malfoy?" I wearily reminded him. He glared at me to shut up. "So are you the resident Healer for all Death Eaters? Do you heal all their injuries whenever they come home from all the battles they've lost?"

Merlin, speaking feels like a chore.

"No," He healed another one of the deeper cuts. "The Dark Lord doesn't want any of them healed. It's to teach them pain or something. Who knows." I hear his clothes rustle.

"But really," I should really stop talking. I tried moving my fingers and winced. I guess Malfoy isn't going to fix that. "Why are you talking to me?" I glared at him, reminding him of all the times he caused Harry, Ron, and I trouble.

I frowned remembering our seventh and last year in Hogwarts.

Despite Harry badgering me about how Malfoy was a Death Eater the previous year, and despite Malfoy's attempt at letting the Death Eaters enter the castle causing numerous deaths including that of Professor Dumbledore, Harry didn't jump at the chance to maul him out of the Hogwarts train and maim him dead the moment they saw him board; though Ron and the general populace of Hogwarts didn't particularly feel the same way as Harry, throwing jibes and insults every time they encounter Malfoy. While I admit that I used to be part of the general populace who would spit out words of disdain behind his back, I admit that being hated by the rest of the school must've taken a toll on Malfoy's studies. It was getting tiring as well, seeing as Malfoy was definitely being silent. So I remained indifferent like Harry, only respecting Malfoy's silence throughout our last year in Hogwarts.

The lower years (that is the First, Second, and Third years) were scared enough of him to know not to do or say anything to him. Except the occasional Third year Gryffindor that would throw a stinging hex at him once in a while.

Although it was curious to see how Malfoy didn't act on any of it. He stayed stoic through the rest of the year, even managing to get third in academic placement during graduation.

My frown deepened. Now that I think about it, even Ginny, the fireball that she is, only ever openly sneered at him, only going as far as pretending that he didn't exist. Ron stopped going after him after being talked to by Harry _and _Ginny days after he tried to create a scene in the halls of our Charms classroom.

"No one told you?" He sounded genuinely surprised.

"No one told me what?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

But that bastard left me even before I had my answer.

* * *

I felt the skin in my left ankle slowly leave itself, and I jumped awake, gasping for breath.

"So you're awake," Rosier sneered at me. He had in his hands the same rod that Nott had earlier and I felt myself getting tired of all this.

"I'm still not telling you anything," I spat in his direction. I see his face contort in anger as he kicked me in my stomach, the air leaving me. I felt him kick me several times more, in the stomach, in the face.

"We're not here to interrogate you, _sissy_," Just when I thought he couldn't get any more unappealing than he is, his sneered deepened.

"Then why did Nott started torturing me for answers, then?" I grinded my teeth. Merlin, that hurt.

"Because he's Nott and he does things his own way," Rosier kicked me, this time in the shin.

Figures. I bet that psychopath didn't even join Voldemort for the sake of purging the rest of the Wizarding World. Nott just joined for the sake of satisfying his thirst for blood.

I tried sitting up but Rosier hit me in the head with the iron rod hard enough for my head to bounce off the floor. I saw stars behind my eyes.

"We're waiting for Potter, you see. We know we won't get anything out of you. We're not that foolish, sissy." Rosier laughed as he repeatedly beat me.

If only the pain of his beating didn't hurt as much as it did then I would've snorted in disdain. I curled into a ball moments later in the middle of his beating, to direct his beating at my back if I don't want any further injuries in my front.

"Come on, sissy! Fight back! Where's that Gryffindor courage of yours!" Rosier laughed harder as he intensified his whacks, even accompanying it with kicks. Merlin, who thought these Death Eaters were muggles at heart?

I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of screaming every time he hit me, only wincing as I feel every hit.

"Rosier," I tensed as I heard Bellatrix through the door. "It's my turn." I heard rather than saw her smirk.

Several _crucio_s and well thought curses later, I felt myself gasping for air. My legs are numb and bleeding. I feel like none of my ribs are intact as breathing become harder by the second, the feeling of something puncturing my lungs intensified with every gasp of breath I take. My clothes are torn in some places, showing off the burns and injuries that I've gotten these past few hours. My mind feels like mush.

I glared at Bellatrix through lidded eyes. I'm not going to lie, I'd rather take Bellatrix on than Nott and his set of poison daggers. I frowned. If they were poison daggers just as he said, then why didn't I feel the after effects?

"Get up! Get up! Get up!" I hear her cackle as she kicked me in the side with her pointy heels.

"How can I when you're constantly kicking me?" I spat at her shoes. I watched in glee for a few seconds as her face twisted itself in rage.

"_Crucio_!"

I couldn't hold it any longer.

I screamed .

* * *

"You're supposed to be smart enough to know not to rile Bellatrix," I hear Malfoy's voice in the distance. My ears feel like they're about to burst.

I opened my eyes and panic, as I see nothing but his blurred figure across from me. "Malfoy, what—"

"Get up, Granger." I see him reach out to me. I swatted his hands away from me, the movement sending pain throughout the rest of my body. I winced.

I hear him mutter several spells and felt the air lighten a fraction. My eyes widen.

"You're the curse designer?" I tried to hasten away from him but the pain in my leg rendered the me incapable. With Malfoy being another curse designer like me, who knows what spells he could be doing right now.

"Not really. I only learned through books," He muttered several other spells that made the room brighter, countering the artificial blackness made by the anti-magic ward. I mentally snorted at the irony. "Our resident curse designer is someone else and you'd do best to stay clear of him."

"Why are you helping me?" I looked him straight in the eyes, noticing for the first time how metallic his eye color is. Silver with flecks of blue.

"I'm under orders," His waved his wand and it left trails of purples, oranges, and yellows in the air. As the room brightened considerably, I saw Rosier face down on the floor, his blood pooled around him.

"Did you kill him?" I turned my head sharply at him, which was a mistake as another wave of pain shot through me. I almost fell on the floor in nausea. Why is he helping me?

"No, you did."

"What? I did not—"

"Shut up for moment will you?" He rolled his eyes as he removed another wand from his cloak pocket. "_This_ is my wand. I'm using yours. Now," He pointed his wand at himself and muttered spells that created deep gashes throughout his body, enough for his blood to coat parts of his cloak with his own blood.

"What are you—"

He pointed his wand straight at my heart. My eyes widened in panic and I slapped his wand away. I tried to thrash even though the pain felt like a thousand daggers going through me. This must be the after effect of Nott's poison. I felt him steady me and I squirmed under his hands.

"I'm not going to kill you. Trust me." He commanded. If I had enough strength left in me I would've snatched my wand from his grasps right there and then. Unfortunately, my leg was still feeling funny, my arms were stinging more than it should, and the rest of my body still felt it was still under the _crucio_. I only have enough strength to sit and talk.

He pointed his wand at my chest again and I winced, waiting for the curse to come. But as he muttered an incantation, I saw the wand glow blue. He swished the wand again and I felt the air slowly leave my lungs.

"A cross between an Apparition and a portkey. I'm sure you'll figure out the technicalities of the spell later," He pushed my wand to my hands. He seriously is helping me. "Now I'm off to do some amateur acting."

Sure enough, he bounded towards the door, limping, and even breathing deeply as he shouted hoarsely, "Granger escaped!"

Seconds later, I felt the familiar tug of Apparating.

* * *

**Author's** **Notes**: Yup. That happened. Malfoy coming to help Hermione wasn't really a surprise now was it? Hehe. I wanted to prolong Hermione's stay in the dungeon cellar but then that would just be mean. Either way, we're all glad that she's safe!

See you guys next chapter and I hope you enjoyed! :)


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